


Iron Starker's Kink & Whumptober Compilation

by ironstarker



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bestiality, Daddy Kink, Gun Kink, Humiliation, Incest, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Parent/Child Incest, Rape/Non-con Elements, Somnophilia, Spanking, Stillbirth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:07:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26763334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironstarker/pseuds/ironstarker
Summary: A collection of all of my Kinktober & Whumptober works. Each one will be a variety of length, and will vary in terms of explicit content. Tags will be updated as the collection is updated, and please heed them! There are dark things to come.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 4
Kudos: 107
Collections: Starker Festivals Kinktober 2020, Starker Festivals Whumptober 2020





	1. Whumptober 01: Mind Control

Red eyes and a glowing blue hand aimed at his face were all Peter saw before he was blasted feet away, the force of the repulsor tearing a hole right through his suit. He groaned, a hand going to press against his side. The burn mark was stitching itself together already.

Mr. Stark might’ve killed him if he weren’t enhanced.

“Mr. Stark, please — I don’t want to fight you!”

But the suit was hovering towards him, flying a couple feet off the ground. The repulsors weren’t raised this time. Instead they were aimed at the ground to redirect the suit’s flight. Peter scrambled back, rushing to get to his feet and crouching. Instinctively, he hunched over the wound in his side to keep the older man from hitting it again. 

“You don’t have a choice.”

His mentor’s voice was cold now, and it chilled Peter to his core. He gaped at the older man, his side aching, his ribs screaming in protest with every breath he took. Peter had taken his mask off in hopes that the sight of his face would make the man realize who he was, but it hadn’t helped. This thing, this suit of destruction floating towards him, it wasn’t Mr. Stark. 

Vaguely, Peter thought of those articles from years ago, when he’d been a kid. The Merchant of Death. That was what they’d called him before he’d adopted his Iron Man title. Before he’d outed himself as a hero. Whatever nightmare it was that he’d been dropped inside of, Peter’s mind was screaming for him to wake. It had to be a dream. This couldn’t be real.

Mr. Stark was kind. Mr. Stark had helped him with his AP Physics homework, once, even though they’d both known that Peter had asked his question just to feel the man’s presence closer. And then there had been that other time, aboard the spaceship, when Mr. Stark had kissed him because he’d thought they were dying. Peter remembered how he’d growled, “To hell with it,” seconds before their lips crashed together, desperate and furious.

It wasn’t fair that this was what fate had brought them to.

“I can’t do it,” Peter said, his shoulders slumping as he took another step back. “I won’t fight you.”

Mr. Stark had an impassive look on his face. Those glowing red eyes would forever haunt Peter’s dreams, if he had any after today. “Sounds like itsy bitsy is all washed out.” One of the palms raised again, the repulsor brightening as it prepared to fire. “Goodbye, Spider-Man.”

He raised his arm to block the blow, a scream tearing its way from Peter’s throat as the repulsor struck him and knocked him back into the rubble of a crumbling building.

This time, Peter didn’t get back up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m going to be flipping back and forth between Kinktober and Whumptober, depending on the prompt I like best. There’s going to be absolutely no consistency with length. This one is pretty short and (not so) sweet, but I have a few planned over 1k words, so I'm looking forward to posting those. Here's to hoping I manage to finish all 31 days!


	2. Kinktober 02: Brat Taming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony thought he’d already given Peter enough lessons about how he was supposed to behave. What’s a man to do when his perfect boy disobeys and gets an attitude about it?

Somewhere near his feet, his boy was whimpering. Staring up at him with wide, imploring eyes. Peter had such beautiful eyes. A deep brown that reminded him of a nice, dark oak, which so happened to be what his dining room table was made out of.

Unfortunately, the boy’s behavior today earned him a seat beneath the table instead of at it. Peter typically perched himself in the seat next to Tony and ate with dainty bites and a raised chin. He’d settled into his newfound life of lavish riches well, thanks to the older man. He’d found the boy on the streets, dirty with less than a dollar to his name. He’d clung to Tony’s jacket asking after food, and the man had smirked at him.

_“I think I’ve got something better I could give you.”_

He made Peter blow him in the backseat of his Rolls Royce. The partition was up, as it often was when these things occurred, but Tony was certain that Happy could still hear the loud suckling sounds the boy had made. He was like an overeager dog that first time, slobbering everywhere, not quite sure what to do without Tony’s hand to guide him.

Peter had gotten better, naturally. Tony had taught him. He’d introduced the boy to a plethora of new toys: gags and whips, swings and dildos the likes of which he’d never seen. Peter’s favorite toy had been a pink plug with a diamond stud on the end of it for quite some time. He’d cried when he grew out of it and no longer found the girth comfortable inside of him. Most of the time, he spent his days yearning after the older man’s cock, as he’d been trained to.

Perhaps trained wasn’t the correct term for it, Tony mused to himself. He took a swig of his scotch, already on his second pour though he’d yet to finish so much as a third of his roast duck. He heard Peter whimpering from where he sat, and felt the telltale rut of the boy’s hips against his leg.

Tony scowled. “No.” He hissed the word like he was talking to a disobedient dog.

But tonight, that was what Peter was. He had deliberately disobeyed Tony when he’d told him that he’d be home late, and under no circumstances was he allowed to touch himself. Peter had done it anyway, thinking he could cum beneath the pillowcase and hide it, or have the maids clean it before Tony got home. The boy had yet to realize that Tony had a nanny cam on him at all times, and that he could see when Peter was up to no good.

He played nice when he walked in the door, petting Peter’s hair and cooing at him, telling him he needed to shower before dinner. There were specks of blood on the sleeves of his shirt, and he wasn’t the sort of man to go to dinner soiled. But then, as Peter chirped at him so sweetly and said he’d wait for him to finish, Tony had yanked the boy by his hair and shoved his nose into the pillow that he’d humped to climax, snarling at him for doing so, asking him if he thought he could get away with it.

Instead of remorse, which was what he expected from his boy by now (Peter knew better, Tony had taught him better), Peter had huffed, “You made me wait all day, Daddy! It’s been _hours_.”

The whiney tone hadn’t earned him any favors with the older man. Tony had slapped his ass for it and promptly put that little cock of his in a cute cage. This, like his favorite plug had been, was baby pink and accentuated with a little, condescending bow at the front. It saved him from the unsightly image of Peter’s cock leaking all down his thighs. To double the punishment, he’d forced the boy to stay naked through the duration of dinner.

Naturally, rutting wasn’t allowed. He didn’t want precum smeared on his slacks.

“Daddy,” Peter said, whining as he settled his chin atop Tony’s leg. He felt the boy shuffling against him, his hips pressing tentatively into the expensive fabric of Tony’s slacks. _Again_. The older man’s scowl deepened. “You’ve barely had any food,” Peter said, his lips curving into a pout. “You’re not even hungry. You’re being mean!”

“And you’ve lost sight of your manners tonight.”

Peter looked startled when Tony pushed back from his seat to give himself more room. He grabbed the boy by his curls, which the older man so often cherished, and hauled him up so he was bent over the table, his hips pressing right into the edge of it. One of the maids, who had been bringing in another scotch for Tony, froze at the sight and then averted her eyes as she backed out of the room.

They knew better than to interrupt when he had a lesson to teach his boy.

“I’m sorry!” Peter was quick to say, realizing that his Daddy wasn’t in a generous mood tonight. It should’ve dawned on him hours ago, but the truth was that Tony spoiled him rotten (the man knew it, too) and he hadn’t had a punishment in weeks.

Not since the incident where Tony had caught him fucking himself out by the pool, where anyone could’ve seen. Oh, he’d been furious about that.

“I don’t think you are sorry,” Tony growled. “I think you’re getting a little too comfortable. All these fancy things that you have now, I could take them away in a heartbeat. I could send you right back out on the streets where I found you.”

“Y-yes,” Peter said.

“Yes _what_?”

“Yes, sir!” His voice hitched higher, into a faint squeak. Peter felt a hand, big and calloused, caressing his ass.

_Oh, no._

“I’ll be good, Daddy. I just wanted to cum,” he said quickly, hoping to stave off a worse punishment before it could start. “Just so horny for you, Daddy. Wanted to — wanted to ride you tonight real good. Yeah. Give you a blowjob, too.”

Tony chuckled, squeezing the meat of Peter’s ass, watching the skin redden with the imprint of his fingers. “That right?” he asked, playing into the boy’s desperate little game.

“Yes, sir! Wanted to let you cum on my face like you like. Remember? Or on my — my tits.”

Tony didn’t have to look at Peter to know he was blushing. He’d never been comfortable calling them that, and he’d always whine and turn away whenever Tony did it. The man smirked. His little brat was being so obvious. “You know what I think?”

“What do you think, Daddy?” Peter whispered.

“ _I_ think that you’re a conniving little shit who needs to be taught a lesson.”

Peter let out a squeal when that rough hand came down across his ass. The slap was so hard that it left him reeling, his poor, caged cock dribbling out precum all between his thighs.

“Count.”

He wet his lips, “ _O_ -one, Daddy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first Kinktober prompt! So everyone's aware, nobody is proofing these (including me), so sorry if things don’t make sense or there are typos. Peter might not be bratty enough but it’s fine I did my best.


	3. Whumptober 03: Miscarriage/Stillborn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A roll in the sack and an accidental pregnancy demonstrates that Tony's guilt complex isn't limited to heroism.

There were many days in his life where Tony had cursed his secondary gender and his age, though perhaps not in that order. He was used to it, had seen it all: alphas trying to talk over him in meetings, alphas cornering him, some of them turning their noses up when they realized how old he was. Unmated, pushing fifty, and no use to them when it came to having a family.

In Tony’s experience, most alphas didn’t want a family anyway. They wanted a bitch to stick their knot into, so he preferred to spend his time with his machines, hidden away from the world. He didn’t have to soak in the alpha drivel that way.

Peter changed it. Peter was a ray of sunshine, the least stereotypical alpha in every possible way.

At least, that was what Tony had imagined, until he’d gotten pregnant.

So what? It was an accident. The kid had lost track of his rut cycle and they found themselves tangled in the lab, Peter’s knot stuffed into Tony’s soaked hole, and that was how they spent the next several days. Coaxing Peter out of the lab and upstairs to the bedroom, into something that at least resembled a nest and wouldn’t be such a damn pain on the older man’s back, had been a challenge, but Peter went.

Even during his rut, Peter was good to Tony. He licked at the marks he made, he apologized for how sore the omega was after. He touched Tony’s hole and cooed over it when it was puffy and aching (though it didn’t stop Peter from knotting him, that was damn sure). Tony had to admit that it was nice. He liked it. He’d had plenty of alphas in the past who made him feel like the next toy to toss aside, but in the weeks after his rut, Peter hadn’t done that.

He’d been there, ready to hand Tony a tool in the lab. He’d been there with a warm mug of coffee and a small smile, begging him not to stay up too late.

Somehow, the kid had wormed his way into Tony’s bed, too. He didn’t sleep in his own anymore. Tony hadn’t known what to do when he found a pair of Peter’s boxers tucked into his drawer.

All that aside, Tony thought that maybe this time it would work. He could let himself relax. Maybe he’d let Peter mate him, if he still wanted to after the alpha’s fiftieth birthday. Tony didn’t know why, but that was the important benchmark. He kept putting it off, kept telling Peter that the kid would change his mind when he realized how he was pining after some old, dried up omega.

Peter had stubbornly insisted that wouldn’t be the case.

Whether it would or wouldn’t be, Tony didn’t think they’d get to find out anymore. He was a month shy of his fiftieth, and he was sitting upright in his bed, staring down at his belly. It was swollen, still.

It was his fault that it had happened. He’d been reading articles over and over since he’d gotten back from the hospital. Not enough rest, his age causing poor vasculature. All Peter needed to do was provide the sperm, and it was his job to do the rest of it. Tony kept going over it in his head. Had his late nights in the lab killed their baby? Prevented her from growing as big as she was supposed to?

When he’d had her and she hadn’t cried out, his heart had stopped. Icy dread sank in as Peter’s face went from relieved to panicked. The alpha had lost his mind, trying to push his way through the doctors, and they’d had to escort him out of the room.

Tony hadn’t seen him since, and he wasn’t sure what to do about that.

He figured Peter would be the type of person to stick by his side, to coddle him a little too much. Enough so that Tony would find it sickening, and one day he’d snap and tell the young alpha to fuck off.

That was what he’d expected. He’d prepared himself for the fight already, in his hospital bed, while they’d let him recover and then shipped him off home the next day with a tiny pamphlet about services for babies.

It hadn’t happened.

He wasn’t sure if Peter’s absence was a relief or if it hurt him more. Being alone in his grief felt like the punishment he deserved.

After all, he was the one who had killed their baby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ow, this hurt to write. There isn’t enough Omega!Tony in this fandom (in my humble opinion) so I’m taking this time as an opportunity to add to it. Sorry this one is so painful, and that it seems Peter is a dick. We'll never know his side of things, but I'd like to think that maybe it isn't what Tony believes.


	4. Kinktober 09: Breeding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter is a sick little Don, and he makes Tony his dogs’ plaything.

How many knots had he taken?

His hole was sore and aching. He felt it, every time the one behind him humped forward, the gush of cum between his thighs. There were so many of them. He’d lost count after the seventh.

Peter said that this was his punishment for lying to him. He said that if Tony’s opinion of Peter was that he was a lowly bitch, then the little Don would show him the meaning of the word. Someone had hit him from behind, knocked him out. Tony remembered that because he had woken up in the middle of the first knot to feel blood dripping down the side of his head. The room had spun. Still, he was able to make out Peter’s form, lounging in an oversized leather chair.

They were upstairs for this event, not down. It meant that Peter’s capos were watching him, leering behind him somewhere as the dog fucked his ass. He was dripping cum all over Peter’s nice, thirty thousand-dollar rug that the boy had gone on about one day. He’d killed a man who he promised he’d spare because he’d had the audacity to drip blood from his broken nose onto this rug. Tony wasn’t sure what the next punishment would be. Would they kill him?

Whatever it was, the little Don was having fun with this. Tony’s eyes were averted now, fixed on some point to his left. He’d lost the willpower to hold Peter’s gaze the first time that he’d cum on one of the dog’s knots.

What was he meant to do? It was a miracle he’d lasted through two without his cock spurting, given the way that they were jackhammering into his prostate.

He lay there now, his chin strapped down, his arms tied behind his back, on the breeding bench. That was what Peter had called it when he’d told Tony in a soft purr where he was, and what was happening to him. Tony’s legs were strapped up, too. He didn’t have any leverage against the studs that the boy brought in to mount him.

But the worst part was that he could feel his cock drooling against his own belly. The seat beneath him was soiled with his own cum. He’d cum twice and was straining his muscles in an attempt to hold a third orgasm at bay. Cumming once on a dog’s knot could be explained away because of the assault on his prostate. Twice? Twice was an accident. But three times —

“ _Then I’ll really know how much you want it_ ,” Peter had said to him, and he’d leaned forward eagerly in the plush chair. The boy wore a navy blue suit with a black tie, his hair perfectly styled, not so much a strand out of place. He might have looked a vision to Tony. The detective had to admit to himself that, before Peter had strapped him to a bench with the expectation of making him take a dog cock into his asshole, he had found the kid attractive.

Alluring.

He knew now why Peter was so dangerous.

Tony’s lips parted. He exhaled in a long, drawn-out sigh. It was an effort not to moan. Peter twitched with interest out of the corner of his eye, leaning forward. His piercing gaze had yet to leave Tony’s prone form.

The dog was drooling on his shoulder. There were thick globs of saliva there. This one was more desperate than the last. _Bigger_. Peter taunted him with it, when the dog was brought in. He laughed about it with sadistic, childish glee.

Peter laughed louder when Tony screamed.

His voice was hoarse from the screaming. Had he not been strapped down, he was sure the force of the dog’s thrusts would’ve had him rocking forward on the bench. But he could feel this new knot pressing against his rim. One of Peter’s capos had commented on it, before bringing another of the dogs out. He’d said, “ _He’s so puffy it looks like he’s got a pussy, boss. Wet like a nice cunt, too_.” They had laughed. Peter most of all.

“Ah,” Tony breathed, and his teeth caught against his bottom lip in an effort to swallow the sound before it came out.

Peter got to his feet. He’d heard him.

“Look at you now,” he said, walking towards Tony. Tony’s eyes slid in Peter’s direction, and he caught sight of the boy’s shoes as he came to a stop by the bench. They were polished, and he could almost see the desperate look on his face in them. “A bitch for my studs. Maybe if I’m lucky they’ll breed a litter of pups into you.” Fingers caressed his hair, then tangled in his locks and twisted his head back.

Tony made a noise of complaint in his throat, straining to look up at Peter. He couldn’t move his head beyond the fraction that Peter had forced it back.

Peter looked down at him, expression impassive. Tony felt like he was being pulled into a trance. The rocking of the dog’s hips. The steady push of his thick, hot cock, sliding through the sloppy mess inside of Tony. The man’s lips parted without him realizing it, and he started to let out breathless moans every time the dog’s cock speared him inside. Peter’s lips curled into a cruel smirk.

“Ask your stud if you can come, bitch,” he ordered.

When Tony tried to slur out, “ _No_ ,” Peter yanked hard on his hair. It was hard enough to make the older man yelp, his cock twitching against his own belly.

“Say it,” Peter ground out, and Tony saw his other hand going for his hip. The cool press of metal to his temple told him it was Peter’s gun pressing against his skull. The little Don was tired of playing games, it seemed.

A shiver ran down Tony’s spine, but as the swell of a knot became more and more insistent against his hole, he knew if he didn’t ask, he’d cum. And he’d die. Tony whined, a pitiful noise of despair, and tears stung the corners of his eyes as he choked in a breathless whisper, “Can I cum?”

Peter scoffed. Tony’s whine turned into a keen when the dog’s hips hammered home and the knot popped into his softened hole, making a wet noise that had Peter’s capos chuckling behind him. Accustomed as he was to being a breeding bitch for these dogs, Tony’s walls spasmed automatically, clenching hard on the knot as spurts of cum began to fill him.

“Oh, god,” he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut. His cock was spitting precum, the rutting of the dog’s hips never slowing as it came inside.

“Try again,” Peter snarled, digging the muzzle of his gun into Tony’s skull.

“Ah! I want to cum, please, please, can I cum?” Tony’s voice was a high whine, the words slurring together in a desperate mush.

Without waiting for the Don to say a word, Tony’s walls spasmed suddenly around the knot inside of him. He drooled cum all over his belly. It was a weak amount, the man’s cock already too spent. Tony whimpered like he’d been struck, squirming his hips as best as he could on the bench, inadvertently trying to fuck back against the stud behind him. Or was it intentional? Had Peter taken that from him, too?

Peter let go of his hair, slotting his gun back into its holster. “Well done, bitch. Well done.” He clapped, returning to his chair and sinking down. “Let’s see how you do with the next one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to post Day 9 because I’m not sure I’ll finish 12, and I’d like to produce some content. This content is pretty filthy. I'm reorganizing the chapters as I go, making up for days here and there, so sorry if that confuses anyone.


	5. Whumptober 11: Body Modification

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ever since Peter's presentation as an Alpha, he's had an attitude problem. Tony's about sick and tired of it. On the night of Halloween, he takes matters into his own hands.

The sound of music blaring overhead made Tony frown. He raised his eyes towards the ceiling, bringing a mug of coffee to his lips. It was Halloween night, and there was a big bowl of candy sitting by the door. He’d asked Peter to pass it out with him and had received a wave of the boy’s hand and a, “Whatever, Dad,” in response.

Peter had never been like this before his presentation as an alpha.

Before, he and Tony were almost joined at the hip. He was a polite boy. Always asked for permission before going out, and he got excited about stupid, arbitrary things like passing out candy and watching old horror movies with his Dad on Halloween. He’d never been much of a partier, but all that was changing this year. As soon as he’d presented as an alpha over the summer, Peter had copped an attitude with Tony every chance he got. Tony’s therapist told him that maybe Peter was testing boundaries, and it was healthy.

Tony didn’t give a damn if it was healthy. It pissed him off.

He exhaled, relieved, when he heard the music turn off upstairs. He polished off the last of his coffee (designed to help him make it through midnight because, much as he hated admitting it, Tony was getting _old_ ) and was washing the mug in the sink when he heard footsteps. “Hey, kiddo,” Tony said, throwing a glance at Peter over his shoulder.

The boy picked at the bowl of candy by the door, rummaging until he found a Snickers bar. He was in the middle of pulling back the wrapper when Tony snapped, “Pete,” and got his attention.

“Oh. Hey, Dad. What’s up?”

Tony fought the urge to sigh as he refocused on the mug he was washing. “Save a few pieces for the kids, pal. There’ll be plenty left over that you can snack on when we’re done.”

“Done what?” He heard his son walking closer, a barstool scraping against the kitchen floor as he pulled it back and sank down.

“Passing out candy.” Tony said it like it was obvious, and he turned, grabbing a nearby towel to dry his hands. It was black and had dancing skeletons on it. What could Tony say? He liked his holidays, and before this alpha nonsense, so had his boy.

Peter scoffed around his mouthful of Snickers. “Uh, Dad, I’m sixteen. I’m going to a party, not passing out candy with you like some loser.”

Tony blinked, his grip tightening on the towel. “Is that so? And who said you could go to this party? Sure as hell wasn’t me, kid.”

Peter’s nose crinkled. “I’m not a kid.”

“Right. Look, Pete, I think it would be nice if we – ”

“Dad, come _on_. MJ’s going, Ned’s going – the whole school is going to Flash’s party. I’m not going to be stuck here with you all night passing out candy to toddlers in fucking superhero costumes and dumb Paw Patrol outfits. Not again. Not after last year.”

Peter’s tone was making it hard for Tony to let go. Frankly, Peter’s “boundary testing,” or whatever it was, was enough to enrage the older alpha. “You’re not going,” he said, his tone curt. “Not with that attitude.”

There was a beat of silence between them. “Fuck you,” he heard, and Tony’s head snapped up. His eyebrows rose as he stared at the teenager, scowling sullenly down at the Snickers wrapper he’d been twisting in his fingers. Peter tossed the wrapper on the counter and shoved away from it, stomping towards the stairs.

“Peter Stark get your ass back here,” Tony growled, stalking after his son, throwing the damp towel against the island where Peter had been sitting.

“No!”

A door slammed.

Tony sat down at the island, rubbing his temples, listening to Peter’s music grow progressively louder until the alpha had a headache. He heard him shouting on the phone to his friends, and Tony drummed his fingers on the countertop in thought. He stroked his goatee, his eyes going to his coffee machine. After a moment, the alpha got to his feet and turned off the lights to the front porch, and then he went to the refrigerator. Tony grabbed the milk and powdered chocolate from the pantry, and he began to make Peter a nice, steaming mug of hot chocolate.

If there was one thing his son couldn’t deny, it was sweets.

Tony broke a couple Ambien (he’d had insomnia ever since he was a kid, but had given in to taking them at his therapist’s recommendation) into the mug, making sure they dissolved. Then, Tony topped the hot chocolate with marshmallows and carried it upstairs. He knocked on Peter’s door once, but the music was so loud he had to call out for his son.

“What?” Peter snapped once he’d yanked open the door.

The music was blaring behind him, and the sound of it made Tony grit his teeth. “I made you hot chocolate,” he said. Privately, the alpha added, because I’m sick of this. He wanted his boy back. His cute, perfect baby boy who would never dare talk back to him the way that this little terror was.

Peter eyed it with a scowl, but he accepted the mug with a grumbled, “Thanks.” The door was promptly shut.

Tony turned and walked away, sinking down onto the couch in the living room to watch scary movies alone. He had a headache, but he was hoping this would help. The alpha was at his wit’s end with his son, and he’d heard that there were ways to fix it. It wasn’t legal now, of course, changing his son’s gender since he’d presented. Forcing another alpha to take an alpha’s knot and his cum was an archaic way of handling this, but Tony was convinced he was in therapy because of Peter and his attitude at this point. He didn’t have another choice. Peter would understand, once he’d had enough cum.

It didn’t take thirty minutes for the music upstairs to quiet. He waited a few minutes after that, and when he knocked on Peter’s door and didn’t get a response, Tony pushed it open. The boy was sprawled across his bed, his blue Midtown hoodie having ridden up his chest, his lips parted. He was drooling onto his pillow. He almost looked like the boy that Tony remembered. There were no angry lines on his face, no trace of contempt. He walked up to his sleeping son and brushed Peter’s curls from his face, watching his nose crinkle in his sleep. He was smiling.

God, how long had it been since he’d seen Peter _smile_?

Convinced that he was doing the right thing for his boy, Tony didn’t waste time. He shut Peter’s laptop to drown out the music completely, and the silence settled over him as he unbuttoned Peter’s jeans and worked them over his hips. Peter’s ass was so shapely and perfect he should’ve been an omega anyway. No alpha would have an ass like that. Tony folded Peter’s jeans and set them aside on the boy’s wardrobe. His son was clad in his hoodie and boxers. Tony was quick to rid him of the latter.

Once he’d placed Peter’s boxers with his jeans, Tony rummaged through his son’s drawers. He got in his nightstand next to the bed and found a lube bottle that was more than half empty, but it would be plenty for him to get started. Soon enough, Peter’s body would start to handle that for him.

He squeezed some of the lube onto his fingers, coating two of them so he could open Peter up. Alphas weren’t meant to take a cock, let alone a knot, and he knew his son would be tight. He set the tip of his finger to Peter’s hole, feeling the way that it fluttered, and when he pushed inside, even in his sleep Peter resisted. The boy’s face pinched and he squirmed in his sleep, turning his head into his pillow like he was meant to escape the feeling. Tony pushed inside until he was buried to his knuckle, and he pumped his finger slowly, until Peter’s ass had relaxed enough that he could add a second.

Peter’s hole wasn’t greedy like an omega’s just yet. It was hard to penetrate him, to push his fingers inside. He resisted it, his walls squeezing and his muscles spasming. Tony stilled his fingers once he had two buried into Peter. He didn’t move his hand. He waited until Peter’s muscles went slack again, and then he started fucking the boy on them. He couldn’t wait for the moment that Peter found the sense to do it himself. Soon enough he’d be eager for it, begging the alpha for his cock.

But for now, Tony worked him open. He scissored his fingers and got Peter’s walls coated in lube. The alpha even rubbed his son’s prostate. That got his boy whining, and when Tony reached beneath him with his other hand, he felt his son’s knot nice and swollen between his legs. He left it alone. To Tony, Peter’s knot didn’t warrant any stimulation. He wouldn’t be needing it soon anyway.

After the third finger, Tony found himself growing impatient. He barely moved it inside before he pulled them all out. Tony kneeled behind his son, his cock already stiff in his jeans as he thought about what he was going to do. He felt excited, and maybe that should’ve been his first clue he was doing something awful, but it wasn’t. Tony wasn’t thinking straight. He repeated to himself in a mantra in his head that this was what Peter needed, what was best for his son before he was too far gone. Tony unbuttoned his jeans and slathered lube over his cock, stroking himself from tip to base. He could already feel the gentle swell around the base of his cock from his knot.

When he set the tip of his cock against Peter’s hole, his son made a noise in his sleep. It was a little whine, like the alpha knew, instinctually, what was about to happen to him. “Hush, baby boy. Daddy’s got you. Daddy’s going to fix everything,” Tony whispered, and he pushed the tip of his cock inside of Peter.

Despite the preparation, Peter was tight. His walls clamped and resisted Tony’s tip, trying to keep him from pushing it in. The alpha grunted as his hands went to Peter’s ass, spreading his cheeks open wide and holding him down against the bed simultaneously. He drew his hips back, and instead of trying to take it slow, the alpha gave a sharp jerk and buried himself inside of his son all at once.

Peter keened, the pain enough to have his eyes opening. “Whassgoingon?” he slurred, and Tony leaned over his son, kissing his cheek.

“It’s okay, baby boy. Just a dream,” he whispered. Peter mumbled something unintelligible, his glazed eyes staring up at his Dad. Tony watched them slide shut, and his son’s breathing evened out again, his muscles going slack.

Satisfied, Tony drew himself up over the boy, kneeling into Peter’s mattress and gripping his hips tight as he began to fuck him. The lube made Peter’s hole wet and sloppy, and it didn’t take long for the sounds of a slick fuck to echo throughout Peter’s childhood bedroom.

When Peter woke, all he felt was _pressure_. Something was hurting his gut, making him feel like he was cramping. He whimpered and then moaned, his hand flying down to his belly. But as he went to curl in on himself he felt a hand stopping him, and it was his Dad who whispered into his ear, “Don’t move, baby. Daddy’s got you, it’s almost over.”

Over? Peter thought the word to himself, feeling more than a little dazed. His mouth felt thick, like it had been stuffed full of cotton balls. He moaned a little, but when he tried lifting his head he felt disoriented. The room spun. Peter’s head dropped back against the pillow. It was too heavy for his neck. Peter stared at his desk, where his laptop was shut. He was still in his room. That thought might have relaxed him, if his belly hadn’t chosen that exact moment to cramp all over again.

“Ah!” he gasped, his muscles seizing, and he heard his Dad groaning over his shoulder. The spasm that rocked through Peter alerted him to something, something that wasn’t right. There was something inside of him, something so big and painful. Oh, no. “Dad?” Peter whispered, a tinge of fear to his voice. “Daddy? Daddy, I’m scared, what are you doing?” His voice hitched up an octave, and the boy sounded borderline hysterical.

“What I should’ve done a long time ago, baby boy,” Tony said. “You didn’t give me any other choice. This was the only way to do it.”

Peter let out a pathetic whine, trying to squirm away. His rim stretched against something, and he realized oh, it was his Dad’s knot, oh god, his Dad’s knot was _inside_ him. Was he cumming? “Daddy, Daddy — please take it out, take it out,” Peter pleaded with the man, tears springing to the corners of his eyes. “Daddy, did you — did you cum inside? Daddy, please take me to the bathroom, let me clean it out. Please, please — "

“You need this, Peter. We both do.” His Dad sounded strange and distant, like he wasn’t the same man who had brought Peter hot chocolate before. How long ago had that been? How long had he been like this?

“But I don’t wanna be an omega!” Peter wailed, sobbing into his pillow. “What’s MJ going to think? Daddy, please!” Normally, if he called Tony Daddy, the man would give in. He didn’t think it was working this time.

“You need to learn how to listen to your Daddy, Peter. I can’t have you going around the house thinking you can talk to me like that. Now be quiet. My knot’s almost done.”

Peter cried harder, sobbing into his pillow when he felt the knot dislodged. His Dad pulled free, and he felt cum oozing out of his hole. Peter took a gasping breath, reaching around behind himself, trying to push fingers inside to scoop the cum out. His hands were shaking, and a sharp grip on his wrist stopped him.

“No,” Tony growled, his words echoing with the command of an alpha.

Peter’s fingers went lax in his father’s grip, but that only exacerbated his panic. “Daddy,” he whispered, such a pitiful sound. “Leave me alone.”

“That was the first one, sweetheart. We’ve got a long night ahead of us.”

Peter shivered. He knew an alpha could produce quite a few knots a night, even older ones like his Dad. He snapped out of the daze from the alpha’s command and started struggling again, trying to rip his hand free.

A sharp slap echoed through the room, making Peter jolt and squeak out a noise that an alpha definitely wouldn’t make.

“Don’t make me spank you again,” Tony warned. Peter could hear the disappointment in his Dad’s voice. “God, how many knots are you going to need? I thought one might help, but you’re so disobedient.”

“I’m not, I’m good, Daddy! I promise I’m good. Please, please let me go —” Peter felt like his babbling was nonsensical.

He wasn’t prepared for the sound of his own lube cape unsnapping. His eyes went wide and he pulled his wrist out of his Dad’s grasp, squirming against his sheets. He kept crying, moaning out, “No, no, no, no —” as he tried to get away from his Dad. But the alpha, after having slathered more lube on his cock, grabbed him by his thigh and hauled him back into the spot he’d been in.

Peter blacked out with the force of his Dad’s thrust.

He woke again, unmercifully, in the middle of his Dad pounding into his ass. Peter’s body was jerking into the bed, his face squashed into his pillow from where his Dad held him down. He gasped, whimpering as the thrusting picked up, and his walls clamped down around the cock. Peter felt shame in his belly as he realized it was beginning to feel _good_.

His Dad let his head up and Peter gasped a breath, turning his head to the side. His pillow was damp with tears. He stared at the mug of hot chocolate. He’d only had half of it. Peter was starting to wish that he’d had it all, because then maybe he would’ve never woken up during this ordeal.

“God, baby. I can’t wait to feel your pussy. You’re gonna learn how to milk my knot. Daddy’s gonna teach you.” Peter shivered, the hairs on the back of his neck raising. His Dad’s voice was a consistent growl now. There was no hint of caring or nurturing in it. He sounded like an alpha in a rut.

The more that his Dad fucked him, the less his insides ached. For whatever reason, Peter’s mind started to grow dazed, and he began to sag into his sheets. Maybe it was the idea that he’d never get away from the alpha like this, stuck on his cock. A part of him was starting to think it couldn’t be so bad. His Dad was good to him. His Dad would take care of him. Peter hadn’t even realized he was making soft, punched out moaning sounds until Tony started praising him for it, telling him he was a good little omega.

 _Omega_.

The word snapped Peter out of his haze, his eyes flying open wider than they had been. “No!” he protested, and he started his squirming. “ ‘m an alpha,” Peter said, but on the next drive of his Dad’s hips, he felt the knot. It pushed into him, spreading his hole open wide. Peter’s neck jerked up and his lips parted in a breathless gasp, and then the pressure ease as the knot pushed inside.

He felt it, too, when the alpha came inside of him. Hot ropes of cum flooded into his tummy, and Peter let out a high-pitched whine. His Dad’s hand came around to rub his belly and he said, “Won’t be long now.”

Peter didn’t have the energy to feel panicked, but he knew what his Dad meant. Peter couldn’t feel his own knot anymore. Soon enough, the thick alpha cum inside of him would change his biology, and he’d have a womb to give an alpha pups.

The thought made his head swim. Exhausted as he was, Peter let his head drop back down onto the pillow and he took the alpha’s knot.

For the rest of the night, it continued like that.

It was a long process, forcing an alpha to become an omega. His Dad tired out after his third knot, which seemed to be the most that he could do in a row. Peter thought he might get away, then. But when his Dad said that they should take a bath together and sleep in his room, all Peter could do was nod, feeling a little confused. There was cum leaking out of his hole and down his thigh, and it was a shame. He didn’t want to waste the alpha’s cum. Peter absently swiped between his legs as he got to his feet, and he sucked on his cum-coated fingers as his Dad led him down the hall.

The young alpha (was he an alpha anymore?) felt like he was watching his life through the lens of a camera. His Dad guided him around, here and there, and Peter didn’t even realize he’d been bathed until he was sitting on the edge of his Dad’s bed. He blinked at the alpha, who parted his robe and said that he had a Halloween treat just for his son.

“I don’t understand,” Peter said, looking up at his Dad’s face.

“Suck my cock, baby.”

“But why, Dad?”

Tony’s expression changed, then. He scowled, shaking his head after making a frustrated noise in his throat. “Do it.”

Scared, Peter opened his mouth and let the alpha push himself onto his tongue. Peter licked at his Dad’s cock and sucked at the head, making a sloppy mess of it because he didn’t know what else to do. His Dad’s cock didn’t get hard enough for him to produce a knot, but he dripped precum into his son’s mouth, and that was Tony’s only goal. When he pushed Peter away, the boy whined and tried to nuzzle into the alpha’s crotch.

That was a good sign.

Tony convinced Peter to get into bed, curling up with his son. He felt between Peter’s legs, which the boy parted willingly without protest, and tried to see if his son was producing slick yet.

His son’s hole was stretched open and sloppy, but Tony couldn’t tell if the wetness inside of him was from the alpha’s cum or if his body was producing slick yet. So he let Peter curl up against him, like he used to when he was scared from a nightmare, and it didn’t take long before his son was back off to sleep.

When Tony woke up, Peter was gone.

He panicked, but he saw a light on in his bathroom, and the alpha rushed in. He found Peter on the floor, his legs spread, his fingers pushed inside of his sloppy, wet cunt. Peter’s face was pinched like he was in pain, and he looked up at the alpha with wide, brown eyes. “Daddy,” he whimpered, “Daddy, make it stop.” He was producing slick. There was so much of it smeared between his thighs, making them glisten. His scent was sweeter, not at all like the typical alpha musk Tony had come to associate with his son.

“Oh, baby,” he said, and he crouched down to gather Peter into his arms. “Daddy’s going to take good care of you.”

Peter’s arms wound around his neck and he let out a choked sob into his Dad’s shoulder. Tony smiled. _This_ was how it was meant to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want everyone to know that I do have Day 9 ready to go, but I forgot to post it because I'm dumb. So! Here’s the prompt for Day 11, and I had great ideas for the other days that hopefully I actually, you know, finish. Yikes. We all know you expected it from me, though, given my history. In any case I hope you guys enjoy this one! It's the longest I've written for this event and I'm pretty happy with it.


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